


The Goran isn’t always right. Or is she?

by DamieMontclair



Series: Damies Jangobi Week 2021 [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Jangobi Week (Star Wars), Jangobi Week 2021, M/M, Mandobi AU, Myles is a little shit, There is fighting, and cuddles, and eventual smut, and the goran IS always right.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DamieMontclair/pseuds/DamieMontclair
Summary: Jangobi Week Day 1: Enemies to Lovers (/cuddles)“What are you doing here, Jetii?” a modulated voice asked. “What is your purpose?”Obi-Wan swallowed. He could feel his heartbeat speeding up. This is what he’d been afraid of for the last four years. He’d gotten complacent. Let his guard down. And now he had a knife at his throat and a Mando who was decidedly not happy about his former occupation.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Damies Jangobi Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138931
Comments: 21
Kudos: 385
Collections: Jangobi Week





	The Goran isn’t always right. Or is she?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a MandObi AU (kind of) but it all gets explained at the start!

After his mission to Mandalore, keeping Satine – the duchess of Kalevala – safe from Death Watch, Obi-Wan left the order. The year spent on the run had changed something fundamental in him. He has seen something, while on Mandalore. Felt a connection. He knew this was where he belonged. This is where he could make a difference. The force had been whispering to him about the rightness of him being here ever since he first stepped foot on the planet, hitting the ground running and never really stopping. He’d given his report to the council and handed in his resignation. Master Jinn had not been happy, but they had kept in contact and his insights on the force had proven invaluable to his further training.

Obi-Wan opened the door to his small apartment in Keldabe, breathing in the scent of herbs and plants deeply, smiling at some of the framed drawings on the wall. He had been wary of moving to Keldabe at first, unsure of how his status as a former Jedi would reflect on him, but no one had ever questioned him. No one had ever asked, and Obi-Wan had learned. Culture, language, fighting… He’d learned everything he could, finished a course to become a medic and now he taught the ade at the districts school how to treat wounds. Basic first aid for everyone, and an elective of advanced first aid. He taught them how to keep each other alive.

He’d also lasted barely a week before the lack of training opportunities in his brand-new apartment – no way he could run katas in his living room – carried him to the public training area near the districts market. At first, he’d been unsure about stepping into the arena, until one of his new neighbours spotted him and waved him over for a spar. Obi-Wan had never landed on his back so fast. Lien had taken him under his wing after that and taught him hand to hand – Jedi never had seen much need for it beyond the basics. The first time Obi-Wan managed to lay Lien flat on his back, he was invited to the local cantina and introduced to ne’tra gal. Needless to say the next morning was less than enjoyable. After that, Obi-Wan was invited to more sparring matches, and as his confidence grew, he finally decided to risk it and took a durasteel beskad off the rack to practice his katas. Soon, he had a regularly scheduled class on swordsmanship, and the local Goran had crafted him his very own beskad, handed over along with a standing invitation to the forge for a beskar’gam fitting. Obi-Wan never took her up on it.

***

Jango rarely went to the public training areas, mostly because they were meant for the residents of the corresponding district and seeing as he lived in the ruling district with Jaster, he had always shared the training grounds of the ori’ramikade. Myles, however, liked to go to different training arenas to look for talented fighters in order to recruit them for training or teaching. The public training area of the river district seemed quite busy for a weekday when they got there, many individual sparring matches were going on one side, and people of all ages were stretching and warming up on the other side. Jango was confused at first, until a young man with fiery red hair and a beskad strapped to his hip stepped into the middle of the warm-up area and everyone started to line up, most already with a beskad at hand. Jango watched the class with fascination, wondering how such a young man acquired such a level of skill with a weapon so rarely used nowadays. Something about the katas performed bugged him, it all seemed so familiar and yet not, but he couldn’t put his finger on it, and it was really irritating him. Deciding he’d seen enough, he stood up and walked over to Myles, knocking on his pauldron, and gesturing to an empty spot. Soon enough he’d forgotten all about the familiarity of the young mans fighting style, too busy trying to dodge Myles effort to grapple him down to the floor.

It finally came back to him when he took his next bounty. It was supposed to be an easy job on a backwater planet. And it was. Until he saw the Jetii fighting off droids. That’s when he finally realized why the redheads fighting style was so familiar. He’d seen it before. He knew it. He could feel the anger rise. What was a Jetii doing in Keldabe, training Mandalorians in Jetii techniques? Jango wanted to fly back to Keldabe right away, what if his people were in danger? What if Jaster was in danger? Death Watch was still an issue, and who knew what lies the Jetii were operating on. But he had a job to do, so he only sent of a quick comm to Myles asking for more information on the redhead. By the time he had the bounty in a cell, Myles had sent him a file on the man. 

Jango quickly lifted off, eager to jump to hyperspace so he could read the rather large document in peace. Once the ship was on autopilot, he made himself some shig and sat down on his bunk. A few clicks had the first file open, a name and face right at the top of an ID document. Obi-Wan Kenobi, born 3220 LY. Stewjoni. Jango looked at the face. He looked young, red haired and freckled as he was, not at all like the man Jango had seen in the yards before leaving. He scrolled down and sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening at the header on the next page. He’d been right. Obi-Wan Kenobi was a Jetii. Jango wanted to throw the datapad at the wall. But he needed to know more if he was to confront the force-user. And so he read. Schooling reports (brilliant in some areas, underwhelming in others), mission reports (what the kriff were the Jetii doing with their ade?), medical file (incomplete), until he reached the final page. Kenobi’s resignation from the order. Signed a little over 4 years ago. Right after his mission on Mandalore. Since then, nothing.

Jango frowned. That… was not really reassuring. Kenobi had spent a whole year on Mandalore running from Death Watch while protecting Kryze and right after that, he leaves the Jetii Order? Had he spent the last four years on Mandalore? What the kriff had he been doing in that time, Jango wondered, already clicking on the next file. It was a compilation of public records, rent, taxes, a diploma from the baar’ur school in Keldabe… Apparently the Jetii worked as a teacher at a school. That bought him up short. How had a Jetii of all people managed to become a teacher? They were supposed to be… cold people. Emotionless. Children did not react well to such things. He had to be faking it. Was that even possible?

The hyperspace alarm ripped Jango out of his musings and warned him that he had been reading for the whole of his hyperspace trip. He hadn’t even realized. And he hadn’t even gotten around to planning how he was going to deal with this! Too late now, he had to hand over his bounty and go talk to Myles. Hopefully they could handle it before it became a problem. While landing, he briefly considered contacting Kryze to ask about the Jetii, but then he realized that if there was a conspiracy, if the Jetii were meddling in Mandalore politics, she might be in on it and it would to him no good to tip her off.

***

Obi-Wan left the cantina late after celebrating the verd’goten of one of his first students. He was incredibly proud of the young Twi’lek and had already written her a recommendation letter to Keldabe’s medic school. She wanted to become a doctor and had shown great skills in both his basic and his advanced classes. Her parents had been extremely proud of her. With a letter she might be able to get a scholarship. He smiled. Then the cold steel of a blade kissed his throat.

“What are you doing here, Jetii?” a modulated voice asked. “What is your purpose?”

Obi-Wan swallowed. He could feel his heartbeat speeding up. This is what he’d been afraid of for the last four years. He’d gotten complacent. Let his guard down. And now he had a knife at his throat and a Mando who was decidedly not happy about his former occupation. 

“I’m not a Jedi anymore,” Obi-Wan answered. Lying would be useless. Acceptance records into the Jedi creche were public. “I left four years ago. It didn’t feel right anymore.”

The blade was pressed closer to his throat. “Why did you come here? There are plenty of other places in the galaxy that would welcome a Jetii.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Former Jedi. My last mission was right here on Mandalore. Staying felt right. I can’t explain it.”  
Suddenly the blade was gone, and he was whirled around and pinned to a wall, a silver helmet with a blue stripe and red jaig eyes dangerously close to his face. “I’m just supposed to believe that?”

“I can’t convince you of anything. Ask around. Do you really think the Goran would have gifted me a Beskad if she thought I was a threat to Mandalore?”

“The Goran isn’t always right,” the armoured Mandalorian growled. “For all we know you could be undercover.”

“So what, are we going to fight it out in the street like ade?” Obi-Wan asked, knowing that provoking the other man wasn’t his smartest idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. So he’d been a Jedi. He wasn’t any more. He couldn’t help but wonder if this confrontation would have gone differently if he’d accepted the Goran’s offer and sworn the resol’nare. If he’d taken his cin vhetin. He didn’t know. It was too late to find out.

Jango backed away a few steps before launching himself the Jedi. If he wanted to fight it out, Jango would gladly lay him on his back. The Jedi dodged his fist, and Jango was glad for his reinforced gauntlets otherwise he might have broken a knuckle or two on the wall. Suddenly the Jedi wasn’t in front of him anymore. Jango whirled around just in time to block a jab at his throat. He barely managed to twist away from the follow up grab. He hadn’t expected the Jedi to be any good at hand to hand. Clearly, he needed to step it up. 

Jango moved in. He threw a quick series of punches the Jedi blocked, before grabbing the loose fabric of the others collar and pulling him downwards straight into his knee. The Jedi let out a voiceless gasp as the knee connected with his stomach, the air brutally pushed out of his lungs. However, he recovered faster than Jango had anticipated and suddenly, there were arms around Jango’s waist, and he was lifted off the ground. The Jedi twisted and slammed him into the ground, quickly rolling so that he had him pinned, an arm pressing against Jango’s throat. Did the Jedi have a kriffing knife hidden up his sleeve? Jango carefully did not move, unwilling to find out.

“I believe we have reached an impasse,” the Jedi said pleasantly. “How about this, you put that knife away and I let you up?”

Jango growled. If the Jedi believed they were done, he was mistaken. “This isn’t over,” he snarled, slowly pulling the knife away from where he’d had it pressed against the inside of the Jedi’s thigh, ready to slice through muscle and arteries.

“Right.” Obi-Wan pulled his arm away from the Mandalorian’s throat, revealing the small blade hidden in his hand. “Well this was quite pleasant. Next time maybe we can do this in the training yard instead of a back-alley.” He stood up, pushing hair from his face before offering a hand up to the downed Mandalorian. His offer was slapped away, and the man heaved himself up from the ground, dusting off his kute. Obi-Wan looked at the time on his commlink. “It’s getting rather late, I wish you a pleasant evening, Mr….”

“Fett.” The Mandalorian – Fett – growled. “I’ll be watching you,” he threatened before turning around, cape flaring dramatically, and leaving Obi-Wan alone in the middle of the street. He sighed, shoulders slumping. That could have gone better. Then again, it could also have gone much worse. Everyone was alive and mostly unharmed after all. He pressed his hand to his aching stomach. That was going to bruise. At least he hadn’t broken anything. If he made it home fast enough, he could treat the bruising before it became too bad. With another sigh, he turned away from the empty street and headed in the direction of his apartment.

***

From that day on, Obi-Wan could almost never make it through a training session without being jumped by Fett. And wasn’t that something? It had taken a few days for Obi-Wan to finally realize that there was only one person “Fett” could be. The ad be’mand’alor. The first in line to become mand’alor when the Reformer retired. As weird as it all was, Obi-Wan took pleasure in their rivalry. Jango was a magnificent fighter and had been all over the galaxy, learned from all kinds of people, and the former Jedi enjoyed the learning opportunity.

It didn’t take long until the people frequenting the public training yard had a betting pool going, and it became quite normal to see credits grudgingly changing hands after a fight.

Over time, their fights became habit, and they would sit on the bench together afterwards, Jango pressing a bottle of water into Obi-Wan’s hand, grumbling about proper hydration and how winning wasn’t fun if Obi-Wan wasn’t at full strength, while Obi-Wan made snarky comments on the spars going on, or on the swordsmanship of some of the warriors.

Behind their backs, Myles was taking bets on how long it’d take them to fall into bed. By the time Jango realized that he actually quite enjoyed his time with Obi-Wan and maybe liked the man a bit more than he should – in the middle of hyperspace with nothing else to do but think and freak out about the results of his introspection – half the district’s adults had already lost. 

When he landed in Keldabe, Jango was ready to crawl out of his skin with anxiety. He brushed past Myles, dumping a datapad with his report in his friends’ hand before jumping off the landing pad, jetpack roaring briefly in the silence of the night, catching his fall before he hit the ground.

***

When Obi-Wan dragged himself to the door to answer the frantic knocking, barely managing to pull his trousers on, the last person he expected to find was Fett. Of all people to wake him up at 3 am…

“What do you want?” he asked, irritated and not caring if it showed.

“Fight me,” the Mandalorian said, nervously biting his lip, eyes carefully trained on the Jedi’s face after a quick peek at the others muscled chest.

“What?” Obi-Wan stared at the other dumbfounded. “You- What? You wake me up at 3am to fight? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Jango blinked. “It’s 3 am? Oh.”

“I can’t believe….” Obi-Wan shook his head. “Fine, we’ll fight, but I’m not going outside. Living room should have enough space.” The redhead stepped away from the door, heading back into the apartment.

Jango just barely held back a gasp at the sight of the Jedis back. The pale expanse of skin was covered in electro-whip scars. They looked at least a decade old. What the hell had the Jetii been up to, to get these as a kid? These hadn’t been in the reports! Jango bit his tongue to stop himself from asking. His buir always said he was too curious for his own good. He carefully stepped into the apartment, eyes widening at the sight of the framed drawings covering the hallway walls. Obi-Wan must really be popular with the children. For some reason he didn’t care to examine, that made his heart ache. Stepping further into the Jedi’s living space, Jango couldn’t help but make note of how… lived in the place was. This wasn’t the sterility he had been expecting from a Jedi, this was a home. There were trinkets littering shelves filled with datapads, multiple knitted blankets were pilled on the couch, an empty tea mug sat on the low table next to a stack of flimsies, and a plush rug covered part of the tiled floor. On one wall, a beskad and a beska’viin were displayed. Both bore the sigil of the local Goran. Jango couldn’t help but wonder if Obi-Wan had been offered armour. Clearly the Goran approved of him. Fully armoured, Jango felt out of place in the cosy space. This was Obi-Wans home and he was intruding all for the sake of letting off some steam?

The moment he stepped through the doorway and into the living room proper, the world flipped, and he was on his back, hands pressed to the ground by the Jedi. 

“Ow.” He let his head thunk back, helmet clanking against the floor, the metallic sound resonating in his ears. Well. He guessed that was fair. The Jedi did say the living room. He let out a chuckle, which rapidly turned into a laugh at the confused look on the Jedi’s face. “You win.” He managed breathlessly between bouts of laughter.

“What, that’s it? I win? That’s all it took?” Obi-Wan asked, incredulously. “I can’t believe you,” he chuckled, finally relaxing. He let Jango’s hands go and sat back, still on the other’s stomach, finally realizing that beskar’gam isn’t really that comfortable to sit on, especially in thin sleeping trousers. He flopped to the side, rolling onto the rug, still chuckling. Obi-Wans breath caught at the sound of the helmet’s seals depressurizing. For all they’d relaxed around each other these last few months, he’d still never seen Jango without his helmet. He couldn’t help himself, he leaned up on his elbow, peeking at the other mans face. The first thing he noticed was the hair. The curls were messy from being caught under the helmet for… however long it had been since Jango took it off last. Then, he saw the smile, bright and wide, cheeks flushed from laughter, dark eyes sparkling at him from beneath dark brows.

Before he could stop himself, Obi-Wan reached up, tracing a scar running down Jango’s cheekbone. Jango’s breath hitched at the touch, but he didn’t slap his hand away. The redhead traced fingers down Jango’s face, and up into his hair, surprised at how thick the curls were. And then, he had a mouth on his own, fingers running through his messy long hair, pulling slightly and Obi-Wan moaned into the others mouth. Jango took the opportunity and slipped his tongue into the younger man’s mouth, eliciting another moan. Eventually, they parted for breath, panting slightly, foreheads resting against each other.

Jango ran his hands down Obi-Wan’s back, fingertips lightly skimming the scars, before grabbing the other and pulling him onto his lap. Obi-Wan couldn’t hold back his groan at the hard pressure of the fully armoured Mando’s codpiece against his hardening dick. His thin pants did absolutely nothing to hide his arousal and he could almost feel himself turning red. Jango smirked at the moan, one hand making it’s way around to the former Jedi’s front to slip under his trousers while the other gripped him tight, pulling him closer. Jango kissed the lightly freckled skin of Obi-Wan’s shoulder, moving up a bit to suck a mark into the other’s neck. Obi-Wan pulled away with a gasp. 

“Bedroom. Now.” Obi-Wan ordered. “I like you but I’m not doing this on the floor, dear.” He quickly twisted out of Jango’s lap, offering him a hand up. This time, Jango didn’t slap it away. Soon, they were both stumbling deeper into the apartment and into the bedroom. Obi-Wan gestured for Jango to at least get rid of the armour while he quickly pushed pillows and quilts off the bed and got rid of his own trousers before sitting down in the middle of the bed, watching Jango carefully remove his armour, placing it on top of the dresser. Jango hesitated briefly when he reached for the closure of his kute but seeing the other man naked had him hastily taking it off before joining the other on the bed, kissing the waiting Jedi deeply, pulling him close. He wanted the other back in his lap. Before he had time to pull Obi-Wan over, the redhead flipped them, sitting on Jango’s lap, pressing the other’s shoulders to the mattress. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but marvel at the beautiful expanse of skin in front of him. He’d know Jango was built, but seeing it… He licked his lips, leaning down to kiss at a nipple, his left hand coming down to toy with the other. Jango threw his head back and groaned, hands coming up to comb through Obi-Wans long hair, enjoying the softness of it. 

Obi-Wan reached down, wrapping his right hand around Jango’s cock, the touch teasingly light. It wasn’t quite as long as his own, but it was delightfully thick, and he had to swallow his groan. Force but he wanted to suck him off. Not today though, there would be plenty of time for that in the future. He started to teasingly move his hand up and down Jango’s cock, but promptly stopped, reaching up above Jango to grab the lube from under the pillow. He quickly squirted some into his left hand, reaching down to grab the two of them together, his hand soon joined by Jango’s as they frantically kissed. Every pull of Jango’s hand in his hair pushed Obi-Wan closer to the edge, and he attacked the other man’s neck with fervour, biting and nibbling at the skin, enjoying every groan and moan he tore out of Jango’s throat, muffling his own sounds in the crook of the smaller mans neck. 

Jango’s hand clamped down hard in Obi-Wan’s hair as he came, a muffled cry of “Obi” making it past his lips. The hand in his hair pulled Obi-Wan over the edge, and he bit down on the muscle in from of him to muffle his keen. Jango moaned again, long and low, at the teeth sinking into the side of his neck. Obi-Wan slumped down on the other man, out of breath. They laid there for a while, just breathing and basking in the moment. Eventually though, Jango started to move. He wanted that come off his stomach before it could dry. Obi-Wan looked at him, disgruntled, before pointing to the door to the fresher and rolling off Jango and onto his back.

He’d fully expected Jango to just clean up, get dressed and leave, after all this was probably just… a momentary error of judgement on the Mandalorians part. Jango stepped out of the bathroom, cleaned up but still naked, a soft towel in his hand. Obi-Wan blinked in confusion, until Jango sat down on the edge of the bed and carefully cleaned the come off the redhead before quickly dumping the towel back in the fresher and curling up around him. Obi-Wan… didn’t understand. What had changed? 

“Maybe the Goran was right. This time,” Jango mumbled into Obi-Wans hair.

And Obi-Wan smiled. Maybe the Goran had been right. Maybe it was time for something new. A cin vhetin. He settled in, pulling the blanket up around them, head pillowed on Jango’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Tomorrow. Tomorrow they would start again. Together.

***  
***

The Goran smiled under her helmet as Myles stepped into the forge, grudgingly dropping a credit chit on the worktable.

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> Ne’tra gal: black ale  
> Beskad: Slightly curved saber made of beskar  
> Goran: armourer  
> Beskar’gam: Mandalorian armour  
> Ori’ramikade: Supercommandos  
> Jetii: Jedi  
> Shig: Mandalorian tea  
> Verd’goten: coming of age at 13, in this AU a weapon trial but also kind of like graduating school, you can move to specialized schools after  
> Ade: children  
> ad be’mand’alor: Son of the mand'alor  
> Buir: Father  
> Beska’viin: straight spear made of beskar (made up, thanks Tyu!)  
> (Let me know if I missed anything!)


End file.
